a drive

There’s a dance in her eyes, like fireflies, but with too much intelligence behind them, for nature to be true.

You appreciate having the opportunity to see them. You thank G-d, and all the angels that intervened to bring you together. The first time. The last time. This time.

You hear the music in her laughter- it makes your mind dance like Fred Astaire, tapping on the ground and never really settling anywhere.

“Want to get out of here?” You ask, a knot in your stomach.

“More than you know.”

“So you don’t like my company?”

“Shut up.” She says, and within a moment she’s up and clutching her phone in her hand, walking out the door.

You follow her out of the bar.

“Where to?” She asks.

“Let’s see where this street goes.” You say and get in your car.

Once she’s next to you, you shift into first. Then second. The radio is untouched. Then third.

“How about some stars?” You ask.

She places her hand on yours.

You drive south. Past the oil refineries. Past the memories that take a lifetime to accumulate.

“They’re gorgeous.” She says, once you’ve pulled into some farm land.

“Let’s go outside,” you say.

She steps out of the car and joins you on the hood. Then you both climb to the roof.

Lying there, with crickets chirping, she noses her face into your chest and says, “This is great. I feel so alone- and so connected. To everything.”


“It’s perfect.”